


The Morning After

by invisible_cities



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: CRACK CRACK CRACKITY CRACK, F/M, Gen, Humor, Silly, as the marketing department would call it: inspired by art, commentfic, translation from Polish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisible_cities/pseuds/invisible_cities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack wakes up after a, *ahem*, celebration, and discovers a few horrifying, typically post-partying facts.</p>
<p>Inspired by a hilarious, lovely piece of fanart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Dzień po](https://archiveofourown.org/works/833585) by [Filigranka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/pseuds/Filigranka). 



The day before had not exactly been the most carefree day of Jack’s existence. Neither had it been the worst or busiest, oh no, no that – no undead pirates, no cursed artifacts, no damned souls or powerful deities chasing him across the seven seas. Just a normal robbery, and a successful one at that. Very fruitful. Which meant celebrations, which in turn meant rum. The seven seas of rum, even. And women.

Captain Sparrow was not sure which of his loyal sailors had dragged him off to… Jack stopped mid-thought. Carried him to bed. Yes, that was much better. Carried him to bed and even left a bottle of rum next to it, for a little hair of the dog. And draped a rag over the window. And brought him, as could be inferred from the pleasant sound of breathing next to him, a lady to keep him company (Jack was strangely sure that, be the end of the previous evening, he wouldn’t have been able to charm one himself… now, satisfying one, that was quite another matter, a man, even a pirate, was always ready for that). Some kind soul, certainly.

Jack tumbled out of the beddings, grabbed the first pants at hand, blindly really, and tugged them on. He got up, blinked and… something was wrong. Or unsettling, a least. There was a black smudge in his sight, on his nose to be more exact, barely visible. If the kind soul in question (a fiend, clearly) had not taken care to also remove his… war paint… after yesterday’s binge - even if they had been as drunk as Jack remembered getting – then Jack could, on the morning after, resemble… resemble… what was that exotic animal called, the one Elizabeth had told him about, with the black circles around its eyes? Anyway, Jack probably looked an ungodly mess, although he was clearly a man of God – which God proved by providing him with ships to loot, as he would feed a raven or a, well, sparrow.

The eyeliner, anyway, needed a retouch. Jack wanted no black smudges on his nose.

Fixing it, however, would require more courage of him than facing the kraken, stealing rum from his own father or outsmarting Davey Jones. It would mean – deliberately! – letting light into the room. Taking the rag off the window, while the headache still raged in him like the worst squall. There were deaths so horrible even the worst rascal would do well to fear them.

Well, there was nothing for it. Jack threw back a third a third of the bottle of rum for courage and carefully, having closed his eyes first, moved the improvised curtain. By a quarter of an inch. The lady in his bed – whom he had already forgotten, which one was she anyway? – murmured in protest and turned to her other side. The pirate opened one eye. By a millimeter. 

The brightness blinded him, stabbed like a bayonet, if not worse. He took it like a man and after a dozen or so seconds opened his eye fractionally wider. This time the pain was like getting hit with a cannonball. Jack wanted to give up, rubbed his nose with his sleeve, ungracefully – but, after glancing at his (now almost completely black) sleeve, understood that he now had kohl all over his mouth, his cheeks, probably everywhere else too. So he gritted his teeth and let a wave of suffering crash over his body, clenching his fists and trying not to drop dead on the spot.

He made it. He survived. He even survived the torture again and again, ignoring the fact that the lady of negotiable affections was becoming increasingly more awake. Then, ignoring the light coming in through the half-covered (more like three quarters covered, really) window, he grabbed his favourite mirror (which used to belong to some marquis stupid enough to try to tour the Caribbean, Jack had taught him the folly of not choosing his destinations carefully, so the mirror had been taken as a rightful fee for the lesson, which had actually been slow-going, since the marquis… well, thick as an ox was putting it mildly), moaned dramatically at the disaster on his face, found the right supplies in his desk and finally set to righting himself.

A quarter of an hour later, he was close to being done and in a good enough mood to start humming a little. That woke the lady completely; or so he figured, from the sudden rustle of the beddings and all the cursing. He didn’t much care, until the normal sounds of a morning after a celebration were shattered by a screech of

‘Thief! He stole my _dessous_!’ from the French word, he surmised he’d spent the night previous with Annie the Countess, who told all and sundry that she was the bastard child of some French ruined nobleman. ‘Give it back, you scoundrel, to deprive a lady of her garments, you have no shame, give it back!’ 

With these words, she pounced on his legs. Or, well, higher. Waist-height, just about. Jack automatically started to defend his manhood, and finally noticed just what he had used to cover his charms. He froze for a second, and then loudly and enthusiastically started helping Annie to disrobe him. The pirate brethren was forgiving enough – but Jack preferred not to test them with bloomers covered in pink hearts.


End file.
